Page 139 of House of Cards

I’m such an idiot. Worried about Ricky this whole time.

What aboutme?

I’m not just trapped in a hotel suite in some mob casino.

This is a monster’s lair. And it might as well be at the top of a mountain surrounded by cliffs.

My eyes flick to the balcony.

Rapunzel, let down your hair!

My shoulders sag. As choices go, this might be the shittiest I’ve considered this month. But I don’t have a choice, do I?

Either way, I’m dead.

Smith

I flex my hand as I stride through the casino’s back corridors, feeling the sting where Dylan’s teeth split open my knuckles. I bandaged up my injuries using the kitchen’s first aid kit, cleaning blood from my skin with icy antiseptic.

My black dress shirt doesn’t appear stained, and neither does my dark suit jacket. But beneath my poised exterior, my muscles still ache. My knuckles still throb.

Pain used to center me. Now it’s just a reminder of how quickly I can lose control.

My reflection in the elevator’s polished brass walls tells me everything I need to know. There’s a wild light in my eyes. A muscle ticking in my jaw.

A hunger that has nothing to do with food.

I’ve become the one thing I promised myself I’d never be again.

A monster.

The walk back to my suite feels like pressing rewind on the last decade of my life. One violent outburst and I’m right back where I started. A man at war with his own nature.

And all because I thought I heard Zoey call for help.

This is what she does to me.

Thisis why she can’t stay.

I have to get rid of Zoey.

Tonight.

It’ll be hard as hell, but I can’t remember when last my life was easy.

I expect to find Zoey in bed. But the mattress has been stripped bare. The closet doors are all standing open. And just as I wonder where the hell Zoey’s hiding, a breeze billows the curtains by the open balcony door.

Where I see Zoey about to climb over the railing.

I’m not immune to the Universe’s black humor, but it’s rare that I enjoy it.

When Zoey whips her head around to look at me, eyes wide, face ashen, I laugh. Maybe she’d been struggling to commit to her harebrained scheme, but I must have been the final push.

Literally.

Her shock, that familiar fear, twists into an angry scowl. Does she think I’m laughing at her?

Zoey shows me the finger and hooks her leg over the side of the balcony.

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